This week’s ultimate question was suggested by Erica M, and comes from Alice Munro’s short story A Real Life.

Have all your clocks stopped?

Give us your answer in 42 words. You don’t need to include the question in your response, but make sure your answer stands alone. What do we mean? Write down the question. Write down your response. Now cover the question with your hand and read your answer out loud. Does it still make sense when you don’t know the question? That’s what we’re looking for. Be creative, and remember: no family allowed!

I have been thinking about my mom a lot over the last week. Every time something happens or I hear something I think she would enjoy, I reach for the phone forgetting she won’t be there to answer. She was a big part of my day-to-day life. We were very close and talked on the phone at least once a day. Having that routine so abruptly altered is taking a great deal of adjustment and an overwhelming amount of tears.

During our lifetime, my mother had done many things for my brother and I without ever second guessing her motivation. She was a mother first and everything else came second. She would constantly put our needs ahead of her own. She consoled us, cried for us and cried with us, she gave us every tool possible to become the strong, independent people we are today.

Up to her last breath she followed that mantra. Although my mom had been sick for quite a while, the week leading up to her passing was one of her best in a long time. She was feeling “fine”, physically better than she had in months and her spirit was completely lifted. I have heard from many who have had a similar experience with their loved one – they seemed to rally back before their passing and it gave those around them that comfort of remembering their departed loved ones with more joy than sadness.

Her last selfless act as a mother was to leave us with memories of her being happy and not being sick. The last day I spent with her was just like hanging out with her 20 years ago. Her sense of humor was quick and twisted, and she had that spark in her eye that I remember so well.

I dream of her often and see her in little signs that she leaves in random things. We miss you, mom, and hope you are enjoying those Angel wings. You certainly deserve them. xo

Written for the Gargleblaster – this week was an interesting task and, sadly, it took me back to my teenage years.

This week we’re paying tribute to Gabriel García Márquez, who was (in our humble opinion) one of the greatest writers of the last century. This week’s ultimate question comes to us from One Hundred Years of Solitude:

I consider myself to be an extremely lucky person. I am fortunate enough to call many people friends and have them reciprocate that sentiment. There was a saying I remember hearing as a teenager that really stuck with me – “Friends are the family you choose for yourself”.

(image credit: planet–earth.ca)

My friends are scattered far and wide. Some I get to spend many hours with and share philosophies and laughter and others are located in other cities, provinces and countries, even continents. Some I have never met face to face. We also share the same ideals and sense of camaraderie but we do it through cyber space and across the blogosphere.

There are no lines of latitude or longitude that can divide a friendship. Those relationships can span time and distance and there is great comfort knowing that the strength in those friendships gives us the ability to pick up where we left off even after months of being apart.

I have received an overwhelming amount of support from all of my friends, near and far. Whether they are known in my physical reality or in my cyber reality, the strength and encouragement I have been given has been monumental to getting me through a very trying time.

I wanted to say thank you to all of my friends for really being there for me and sending your words of love and optimism. Although by kilometers and miles we may seem worlds apart, your words bring you close and keep you in my heart.